GIFT  or 

Mrs.    I.    M.   Aiken 


OMAR  AND  THE  RABBI 


Hv    FREDERICK    LeKOY   SARGENT 


^  <^c. 


i.f  X/^      ^"^ 


OMAR    AND    THE    RABBI 


OMAR  and  the  RABBI 

Fitzgerald's  translation 
of  the  rubaiyat  of  omar 
khayyam,  and  brown- 
ing's rabbi  ben  ezra,  ar- 
ranged in  dramatic  form 


BY 

FREDERICK    LeROY    SARGENT 


BOSTON 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 

I919 


Copyright,  ipop,  by 

FREDERICK  LEROY  SARGENT 

Copyright,  ipip,  by 
The  Four  Seas  Company 

First  edition,  October,  1909 
Second  "  December,  191 1 
Third     "  August,  1919 


The  Four   Seas  Press 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


For  the  benefit  of  readers  who  may  not  be  entirely 
familiar  with  the  two  poems  here  combined,  it  may 
be  well  to  state  that  each  poem  is  used  entire  and 
>\ithout  any  alteration  or  transposition  of  parts. 
Whether  Browning  could  have  had  Fitzgerald's 
translation  in  mind  when  writing  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 
is  a  matter  of  conjecture  with  regard  to  which 
there  seems  to  be  no  more  evidence  than  the  way 
the  two  poems  fit  together.  However  that  may  be, 
the  fitting  together  which  has  been  here  attempted 
reveals  an  amount  of  structure  and  dramatic  power 
in  both  poems  perhaps  hitherto  unsuspected.  A  pub- 
lic performance  of  the  play  was  given  by  the  Senior 
Class  of  Emerson  College  at  Chickering  Hall,  Bos- 
ton, Massachusetts,  April  ii,  1910. 

F.  L.  S. 


\^^M.C.^ 


(Smut  wxh  %  Rabbi 


PERSONS 

Omar  Khayyam,  the  astronomer-poet  of  Persia, 
Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  a  philosopher. 
A  Dancing  Girl,  representing  Spring   (soprano), 
A  Young  Man  Singer,  representing  Summer 

(tenor). 
Saki,  representing  Autumn  (contralto). 
Old  Man,  representing  Winter  (bass), 
A  Youth. 
A  Maiden. 

Scene:  A  garden  on  the  road  to  Naishdpur. 
Through  branches  at  the  left  one  sees  a  turret 
and  minarets  of  the  city.  Near  the  center  a 
tent  richly  ornamented  and  bearing  a  tavern- 
sign  of  grapes,  leaves,  and  tendrils.  At  the 
right  a  well. 

Springtime,  iioo.  The  scene  opens  before  sunrise; 
the  lifht,  at  first  very  dim,  becomes  rosy,  then 
fades,  and  finally  brightens  into  day. 

Enter,  right,  the  Youth  and  the  Maiden,  both 
simply  clad.  She  stops  at  the  well  and  draws 
water.  He,  attracted  by  the  tent,  gazes  at  it 
with  eager  interest. 

Enter,  left,  Omar,  in  festal  attire. 


Omar 

[Approaching  the  tent.] 
Wake !   For  the  Sun  who  scatter'd  into  flight 
The  Stars  before  him  from  the  Field  of  Night, 
Drives  Night  along  with  them  from  Heav'n, 
and  strikes 
The  Sultan's  Turret  with  a  Shaft  of  Light 

[Catches  sight  of  the  Youth.] 

Before  the  phantom  of  False  morning  died, 
Methought  a  Voice  within  the  Tavern  cried, 
"  When  all  the  Temple  is  prepared  within, 
Why  nods  the  drowsy  Worshipper  outside?" 

[The  Maiden  goes  hurriedly  to  the  Youth  and  of- 
fers him  a  cup  of  water.  The  Youth  takes  it, 
but  hesitates  to  drink,  and  gazes  still  at  the 
tent.  Omar,  marking  the  Youth's  leaning, 
continues.] 

And,  as  the  Cock  crew,  those  who  stood  before 
The  Tavern  shouted :  "  Open  then  the  door ! 

You  know  how  little  while  we  have  to  stay. 
And,  once  departed,  may  return  no  more." 

[Omar  goes  to  the  tent  door,  holds  it  open  with 
an  mviting  gesture  and  smues  engagingly  at 
the  Youth,  who  starts  to  enter,  hut  is  restrained 
Oy  the  Maiden. 

Then,  at  a  sign  from  Omar,  there  comes  from  the 
tent  the  Dancing  Girl,  appareled  as  Spring, 
and  bearing  an  almond  branch  in  bloom.  As 
the  Girl  stngs,  the  Maiden  shows  increasing 
fear  and  distress  at  the  GirVs  Power  over  the 
Youth.] 


Song  of  Spring 

Now  the  New  Year  reviving  old  Desires, 
The  thoughtful  Soul  to  Solitude  retires, 

Where  the  White  Hand  of  Moses  on  the  Bough 
Puts  out,  and  Jesus  from  the  Ground  suspires. 

Iram  indeed  is  gone  with  all  his  Rose, 
And    Jamshyd's    Sev'n-ring'd    Cup    where    no    one 
kno>ys ; 
But  still  a  Ruby  gushes  from  the  Vine, 
And  many  a  Garden  by  the  Water  blows. 

And  David's  lips  are  lockt;  but  in  divine 
High-piping  Pehlevi,  with  "Wine!     Wine!     Wine! 
Red  Wine ! "  —  the  Nightingale  cries  to  the  Rose 
That  sallow  cheek  of  her's  to'incarnadine. 

Come,  fill  the  Cup,  and  in  the  fire  of  Spring 
Your  Winter-garment  of  Repentance  fling: 

The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  little  way 
To  flutter  —  and  the  Bird  is  on  the  Wing. 

Whether  at  Naishapur  or  Babylon, 
Whether  the  Cup  with  sweet  or  bitter  run, 

The  Wine  of  Life  keeps  oozing  drop  by  drop. 
The  Leaves  of  Life  keep  falling  one  by  one. 

[Before  the  end  of  the  song,  enter,  right,  Rabbi 
Ben  Ezra.  Observing  the  Maiden's  distress 
and  Omar's  smile,  he  casts  at  him  a  reproach- 
ful glance,  goes  to  the  Youth  and  puts  an 
arm  on  the  young  man's  shoulder  affection- 
ately.] 


Rabbi 

[To  the  Youth,  as  they  walk  together  toward  th§ 
well] 

Grow  old  along  with  me! 
The  best  is  yet  to  be, 

The  last  of  life,  for  which  the  first  was  made : 
Our  times  are  in  His  hand 
Who  saith,  "A  whole  I  planned. 
Youth  shows  but  half;  trust  God:  see  all,  nor  be 
afraid!" 

[Omar  glances  smilingly  at  the  Maiden;  then  in  re- 
sponse to  his  beckoning  there  comes  from  the 
tent  the  Young  Man  Singer,  appareled  as  Sum- 
lUS,  and  hearing  a  hook,] 

Song  of  Summer 

Each  Morn  a  thousand  Roses  brings,  you  say; 
Yes,  but  where  leaves  the  Rose  of  Yesterday? 

And  this  first  Summer  month  that  brings  the  Rose 
Shall  take  Jamshyd  and  Kaikobad  away. 

Well,  let  it  take  them!    What  have  we  to  do 
With  Kaikobad  the  Great,  or  Kaikhosru? 

Let  Zal  and  Rustum  thunder  as  they  will, 
Or  Hatim  call  to  Supper  —  heed  not  you. 

[To  the  Maiden,  who  stands  wondering.] 

With  me  along  the  strip  of  Herbage  strown 
That  just  divides  the  desert  from  the  sown. 

Where  name  of  Slave  and  Sultan  is  forgot  — 
And  Peace  to  Mahmud  on  his  golden  Throne! 

B 


A  Book  of  Verses  underneath  the  Bough, 
A  Jug  of  Wine,  a  Loaf  of  Bread  —  and  Thou 

Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness  — 
Oh,  Wilderness  were  Paradise  enow! 

Rabbi 

[To  the  Youth.] 

Not  that,  amassing  flowers, 
Youth  sighed,  "Which  rose  make  ours. 
Which  lily  leave  and  then  as  best  recall  ?  " 
Not  that,  admiring  stars, 
It  yearned,  "  Nor  Jove,  nor  Mars ; 
Mine    be    some   figured    flame    which   blends,    tran- 
scends them  all ! " 

Not  for  such  hopes  and  fears 

Annulling  youth  s  brief  years. 

Do  I  remonstrate :  folly  wide  the  mark ! 

Rather  I  prize  the  doubt 

Low  kinds  exist  without, 

Finished  and  finite  clods,  untroubled  by  a  spark. 

Poor  vaunt  of  life  indeed. 
Were  man  but  formed  to  feed 
On  joy,  to  solely  seek  and  find  and  feast; 
Such  feasting  ended,  then 
As  sure  an  end  to  men; 

Irks  care  the  crop  full  bird?    Frets  doubt  the  maw- 
crammed  beast? 

Rejoice  we  are  allied 

To  That  which  doth  provide 

And  not  partake,  effect  and  not  receive! 

A  spark  disturbs  our  clod; 

Nearer  we  hold  of  God 


Who  gives,  than  of  His  tribes  that  take,  I  must 
bcrievc. 

[Saki  peers  from  the  tent.  She  is  appareled  as 
Autumn,  and  carries  a  jug  and  a  wine-cup. 
Omar  goes  to  her,  takes  the  cup  which  she  has 
offered  to  him,  and  holds  it  to  receive  wine  from 
the  jug.  He  then  leads  her  forward.  Following 
her  from  the  tent  comes  the  Old  Man,  appareled 
as  Winter,  and  leaning  on  a  staff  twined  with 
withered  leaves. \ 

Omar 

Some  for  the  Glories  of  This  World;  and  some 
Sigh  for  the  Prophet's  Paradise  to  come; 

Ah,  take  the  Cash,  and  let  the  Credit  go. 
Nor  heed  the  rumble  of  a  distant  Drum! 

Rabbi 

Then,  welcome  each  rebuff 
That  turns  earth's  smoothness  rough. 
Each  sting  that  bids  nor  sit  nor  stand  but  go! 
Be  our  joys  three-parts  pain ! 
Strive,  and  hold  cheap  the  strain; 
Learn,  nor  account  the  pang ;  dare,  never  grudge  the 
throe ! 

[Saki,  acknowledging  a  look  from  Omar,  sings.\ 

Song  of  Autumn 

Look  to  the  blowing  Rose  about  us  —  "Lo, 
Laughing,"  she  says,  "into  the  world  I  blow. 

At  once  the  silken  tassel  of  my  Purse 
Tear,  and  its  Treasure  on  the  Garden  throw." 

ID 


And  those  who  husbanded  the  Golden  grain, 
And  those  who  flung  it  to  the  winds  like  Rain, 

Alike  to  no  such  aureate  Earth  are  turn'd 
As,  buried  once,  Men  want  dug  up  again. 

[The  Old  Man  sings.] 

Song  of  Winter 

The  Worldly  Hope  men  set  their  Hearts  upon 
Turns  Ashes  —  or  it  prospers;  and  anon, 

Like  Snow  upon  the  Desert's  dusty  Face, 
Lighting  a  little  hour  or  two  —  was  gone. 

Rabbi 

[Turns  sadly  away  from  the  Old  Man,  goes  to  the 
well,  where  he  seats  himself:  the  Maiden  at  the 
same  time  coming  to  sit  reverently  at  his  feet.] 

For  thence,  —  a  paradox 
Which  comforts  while  it  mocks, 
Shall  life  succeed  in  that  it  seems  to  fail: 
What  I  aspired  to  be, 
And  was  not,  comforts  me : 

A  brute  I  might  have  been,  but  would  not  sink  i'  the 
scale. 

What  IS  he  but  a  brute 

Whose  flesh  has  soul  to  suit. 

Whose  spirit  works  lest  arms  and  legs  want  play? 

To  man,  propose  this  test  — 

Thy  body  at  its  best. 

How  far  can  that  project  thy  soul  on  its  lone  way? 

zx 


Omar 

[Advances  to  Youth;  speaks  intimately.] 

Think,  in  this  battered  Caravanserai 
Whose  Portals  are  alternate  Night  and  Day, 

How  Sultan  after  Sultan  with  his  Pomp 
Abode  his  destin'd  Hour,  and  went  his  way. 

They  say  the  Lion  and  the  Lizard  keep 

The  Courts  where  Jamshyd  gloried  and  drank  deep : 

And  Bahram,  that  great  Hunter  —  the  Wild  Ass 
Stamps  o'er  his  Head,  but  cannot  break  his  Sleep. 

I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  bled; 

That  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
Dropt  in  her  Lap  from  some  once  lovely  Head. 

And  this  reviving  Herb  whose  tender  Green 
Fledges  the  River-Lip  on  which  we  lean  — 
Ah,  lean  upon  it  lightly!  for  who  knows 
From  what  once  lovely  Lip  it  springs  unseen! 

[The  Youth  is  led  the  while  apart  by  Omar,  and  ap- 
pears fascinated  by  the  poet's  fancies.  The 
singers,  observing  Omar's  triumph,  sing  to- 
gether.] 

Chorus 

Ah,  my  Beloved,  fill  the  cup  that  clears 
To-DAY  of  past  Regret  and  future  Fears : 

To-morrow!  —  Why,  To-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself  with  Yesterday's  Sev'n  thousand  Years. 

12 


For  some  we  loved,  the  loveliest  and  the  best 
That  from  his  Vintage  rolling  Time  has  prest, 

Have  drunk  their  Cup  a  Round  or  two  before, 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  rest 

And  we,  that  now  make  merry  in  the  Room 
They  left,  and  Summer  dresses  in  new  bloom, 

Ourselves  must  we  beneath  the  Couch  of  Earth 
Descend  —  ourselves  to  make  a  Couch  —  for  whom? 

Ah,  make  the  most  of  what  we  yet  may  spend, 
Before  we  too  into  the  Dust  descend; 

Dust  into  Dust,  and  under  Dust,  to  lie, 
Sans  Wine,  sans  Song,  sans  Singer,  and  —  sans  End ! 

Rabbi 

Yet  gifts  should  prove  their  use: 
I  own  the  Past  profuse 
Of  power  each  side,  perfection  every  turn: 
Eyes,  ears  took  in  their  dole. 
Brain  treasured  up  the  whole; 
Should  not  the  heart  beat  once  "  How  good  to  live 
and  learn  "  ? 

Not  once  beat  "  Praise  be  Thine ! 
I  see  the  whole  design, 

I,  who  saw  power,  see  now  Love  perfect  too: 
Perfect  I  call  Thy  plan: 
Thanks  that  I  was  a  man! 

Maker,  remake,  complete,  —  I  trust  what  Thou  shalt 
do!" 

For  pleasant  is  this  flesh; 
Our  soul,  in  its  rose-mesh 
Pulled  ever  to  the  earth,  still  yearns  for  rest: 

13 


Would  we  some  prize  might  hold 
To  match  those  manifold 

Possessions  of  the  brute,  —  gain   most,  as   wc  did 
best! 

Let  us  not  always  say, 
"  Spite  of  this  flesh  to-day 

I  strove,  made  head,  gained  ground  upon  the  whole !" 
As  the  bird  wings  and  sings, 
Let  us  cry,  "  All  good  things 

Are  ours,  nor  soul  helps  flesh  more,  now,  than  flesh 
helps  soul ! " 


Omar 

Alike  for  those  who  for  To-day  prepare. 
And  those  that  after  some  Tomorrow  stare, 

A  Muezzin  from  the  Tower  of  Darkness  cries, 
**  Fools,  your  Reward  is  neither  Here  nor  There." 

Why,  all  the  Saints  and  Sages  who  discussed 
Of  the  Two  Worlds  so  learnedly  are  thrust 

Like  foolish  Prophets  forth ;  their  Words  to  Scorn 
Are  scattered,  and  their  Mouths  are  stopt  with  Dust 

Myself  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 
Doctor  and  Saint,  and  heard  great  argument 

About  it  and  about:  but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  door  where  in  I  went 

With  them  the  seed  of  Wisdom  did  I  sow. 

And  with  my  own  hand  wrought  to  make  it  grow; 

And  this  was  all  the  Harvest  that  I  reap'd  — 
"I  came  like  Water,  and  like  Wind  I  go." 


H 


Into  this  Universe,  and  Why  not  knowing, 
Nor  Whence,  like  Water  willy-nilly  flowing; 
And  out  of  it,  as  Wind  along  the  Waste, 
I  know  not  Whither,  willy-nilly  blowing. 

What,  without  asking,  hither  hurried  Whence? 
And,  without  asking.  Whither  hurried  hence! 

O,  many  a  Cup  of  this  forbidden  Wine 
Must  drown  the  memory  of  that  insolence! 

Up  from  Earth's  Centre  through  the  Seventh  Gate 
I  rose,  and  on  the  Throne  of  Saturn  sate. 

And  many  a  Knot  unravell'd  by  the  Road; 
But  not  the  Master-knot  of  Human  Fate. 

There  was  the  Door  to  which  I  found  no  key ; 
There  was  the  Veil  through  which  I  could  not  see : 

Some  little  talk  awhile  of  Me  and  Thee 
There  was  —  and  then  no  more  of  Thee  and  Me. 

Earth  could  not  answer;  nor  the  Seas  that  mourn 
In  flowing  Purple,  of  their  Lord  forlorn; 

Nor  rolling   Heaven,  with  all  his  Signs  reveal'd 
And  hidden  by  the  sleeve  of  Night  and  Morn. 

Then  of  the  Thee  in  Me  who  works  behind 
The  Veil,  I  lifted  up  my  hands  to  find 

A  Lamp  amid  the  Darkness;  and  I  heard, 
As     from     Without  —  "The     Me     within     Thee 
BUND ! " 

Rabbi 

Therefore  I  summon  age 

To  grant  youth's  heritage. 

Life's  struggle  having  so  far  reached  its  terra : 

15 


Thence  shall  I  pass,  approved 
A  man,  for  aye  removed 

From  the  developed  brute;   a  God  though  in  the 
germ. 

And  I  shall  thereupon 

Take  rest,  ere  I  be  gone 

Once  more  on  my  adventure  brave  and  new: 

Fearless  and  unperplexed, 

When  I  wage  battle  next. 

What  weapons  to  select,  what  armour  to  indue. 

Youth  ended,  I  shall  try 

My  gain  or  loss  thereby: 

Leave  the  fire  ashes,  what  survives  is  gold: 

And  I  shall  weigh  the  same, 

Give  life  its  praise  or  blame: 

Young,  all  lay  in  dispute;  I  shall  know,  being  old. 

For,  note  when  evening  shuts, 

A  certain  moment  cuts 

The  deed  off,  calls  the  glory  from  the  grey: 

A  whisper  from  the  west 

Shoots  —  "Add  this  to  the  rest. 

Take  it  and  try  its  worth :  here  dies  another  day." 

So,  still  within  this  life. 

Though  lifted  o'er  its  strife. 

Let  me  discern,  compare,  pronounce  at  last, 

"  This  rage  was  right  i'  the  main. 

That  acquiescence  vain: 

The  Future  I  may  face  now  I  have  proved  the  Past." 

For  more  is  not  reserved 

To  man,  with  soul  just  nerved 

To  act  to-morrow  what  he  learns  to-day: 

i6 


Here,  work  enough  to  watch 
The  Master  work,  and  catch 

Hints  of  the  proper  craft,  tricks  of  the  toors  true 
play. 

As  it  was  better,  youth 
Should  strive,  through  acts  uncouth, 
Toward  makinc^,  than  repose  on  aught  found  made; 
So,  better,  age,  exempt 
From  strife,  should  know,  than  tempt 
Further.     Thou  waitedest  age:   wait  death  nor  be 
afraid ! 

Omar 

[Drains  the  wine-cup,] 

Then  to  the  Lip  of  this  poor  earthen  Urn 
I  lean'd,  the  Secret  of  my  Life  to  learn : 

And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmur'd —  "  While  you  live. 
Drink!  —  for,  once  dead,  you  never  shall  return." 

I  think  the  Vessel,  that  with  fugitive 
Articulation  answer'd,  once  did  live. 

And  drink;  and  Ah!  the  passive  Lip  I  kiss*d. 
How  many  Kisses  might  it  take  —  and  give! 

For  I  remember  stopping  by  the  way 

To  watch  a  Potter  thumping  his  wet  Clay: 

And  with  its  all-obliterated  Tongue 
It  murmur'd —  " Gently,  Brother,  gently,  pray!" 

Listen  —  a  moment  listen!  —  Of  the  same 

Poor  Earth  from  which  that  Human  Whisper  came 

The  luckless  Mould  in  which  Mankind  was  cast 
They  did  compose,  and  caird  him  by  the  name. 


And  not  a  drop  that'  from  our  Cups  we  throw 

For  Earth  to  drink  of,  but  may  steal  below 

To  quench  the  fire  of  Anguish  in  some  Eye 
There  hidden  —  far  beneath,  and  long  ago. 

As  then  the  Tulip  for  her  morning  sup 
Of  Heav'nly  Vintage  from  the  soil  looks  up. 

Do  you  devoutly  do  the  like,  till  Heav'n 
To  Earth  invert  you  like  an  Empty  Cup. 

Perplext  no  more  with  Human  or  Divine, 
To-morrow's  tangle  to  the  winds  resign. 
And  lose  your  fingers  in  the  tresses  of 
The  Cypress-slender  Minister  of  Wine. 

And  if  the  Wine  you  drink,  the  Lip  you  press. 
End  in  what  All  begins  and  ends  in  —  Yes; 

Think  then  you  are  To-day  what  Yesterday 
You  were  —  To-morrow  you  shall  not  be  less. 

So  when  the  Angel  of  the  darker  Drink 
At  last  shall  find  you  by  the  river-brink. 
And,  offering  his  Cup,  invite  your  Soul 
Forth  to  your  Lips  to  quaff  —  you  shall  not  shrink. 

Why,  if  the  Soul  can  fling  the  Dust  aside. 
And  naked  on  the  Air  of  Heaven  ride, 

Wer't  not  a  Shame  —  wer't  not  a  Shame  for  him 
In  this  clay  carcase  crippled  to  abide? 

T  is  but  a  Tent  where  takes  his  one-day*s  rest 
A  Sultan  to  the  realm  of  Death  addrest; 
The  Sultan  rises,  and  the  dark  Ferrash 
Strikes,  and  prepares  it  for  another  Guest. 

z8 


And  fear  not  lest  Existence  closing  your 
Account,  and  mine,  should  know  the  like  no  more; 

The  Eternal  Saki  from  that  Bowl  has  pour'd 
Millions  of  Bubbles  like  us,  and  will  pour. 

When  You  and  I  behind  the  Veil  are  past. 

Oh  but  the  long  long  while  the  World  shall  last, 

Which  of  our  Coming  and  Departure  heeds 
As  the  Sev'n  Seas  should  heed  a  pebble-cast. 

A  Moments  Halt  —  a  momentary  taste 

Of  Being  from  the  Well  amid  the  Waste  — 

And  Lo!  —  the  phantom  Caravan  has  reached 
The  Nothing  it  set  out  from  —  Oh,  make  haste ! 

Would  you  that  spangle  of  Existence  spend 
About  THE  SECRET  —  quick  about  it.  Friend! 

A  Hair  perhaps  divides  the  False  and  True  — 
And  upon  what,  prithee,  does  Life  depend? 

A  Hair  perhaps  divides  the  False  and  True; 
Yes;  and  a  single  Alif  were  the  clue  — 

Could  you  but  find  it  —  to  the  Treasure-house, 
And  peradventure  to  The  Master  too; 

Whose  secret  Presence,  through  Creations  veins 
Running  Quicksilver-like  eludes  your  pains; 
Taking  all  shapes  from  Mah  to  Mahi;  and 
They  change  and  perish  all  —  but  He  remains; 

A  moment  guessed  —  then  back  behind  the  Fold 
Immerst  of  Darkness  round  the  Drama  roll'd 

Which,  for  the  Pastime  of  Eternity, 
He  does  Himself  contrive,  enact,  behold. 

19 


But  if  in  vain,  down  on  the  stubborn  floor 

Of  Earth,  ana  up  to  Heaven's  unopening  Door, 

You  gaze  To-day,  while  You  are  You  —  how  then 
To-MORROW,  You  when  shall  be  You  no  more? 

Waste  not  your  Hour,  nor  in  the  vain  pursuit 
Of  This  and  That  endeavour  and  dispute; 
Better  be  jocund  with  the  fruitful  Grape 
Than  sadden  after  none,  or  bitter.  Fruit 

Rabbi 

Enough  now,  if  the  Right 
And  Good  and  Infinite 

Be  named  here,  as  thou  call'st  thy  hand  thine  own, 
With  knowledge  absolute, 
SiAject  to  no  dispute 

From  fools  that  crowded  youth,  nor  let  thee  feel 
alone. 

Be  there,  for  once  and  all. 
Severed  great  minds  from  small. 
Announced  to  each  his  station  in  the  Past! 
Was  I,  the  world  arraigned. 
Were  they,  my  soul  disdained. 
Right?    Let  age  speak  the  truth  and  give  us  peace 
at  last! 

Omar 

[Turning  with  a  shrug  to  his  followers.] 

You  know,  my  Friends,  with  what  a  brave  Carouse 
I  made  a  Second  Marriage  in  my  house; 

Divorced  old  barren  Reason  from  my  Bed, 
And  took  the  Daughter  of  the  Vine  to  Spouse. 

20 


For  "  Is  "  and  "  Is-not  "  though  with  Rule  and  Line, 
And  "  Up-and-down  "  by  Logic  I  define, 

Of  all  that  one  should  care  to  fathom,  I 
Was  never  deep  in  anything  but  —  Wine. 

Ah,  but  my  Computations,  People  say, 
Reduced  the  Year  to  better  reckoning?  —  Nay, 

'T  was  only  striking  from  the  Calendar 
Unborn  To-morrow,  and  dead  Yesterday. 

And  lately,  by  the  Tavern  Door  agape, 

Came  shining  through  the  Dusk  an  Angel  Shape 

Bearing  a  Vessel  on  his  Shoulder;  and 
He  bid  me  taste  of  it ;  and 't  was  —  the  Grape ! 

The  Grape  that  can  with  Logic  absolute 
The  Two-and-Seventy  jarring  Sects  confute: 

The  sovereign  Alchemist  that  in  a  trice 
Life's  leaden  metal  into  Gold  transmute: 

The  mighty  Mahmiid,  Allah-breathing  Lord, 
That  all  the  misbelieving  and  black  Horde 

Of  Fears  and  Sorrows  that  infest  the  Soul 
Scatters  before  him  with  his  whirlwind  Sword. 

Why,  be  this  Juice  the  growth  of  God,  who  dare 
Blaspheme  the  twisted  tendril  as  a  Snare? 

A  Blessing,  we  should  use  it,  should  we  not? 
And  if  a  Curse  —  why,  then.  Who  set  it  there? 

I  must  abjure  the  Balm  of  Life,  I  must, 
Scared  by  some  After-reckoning  ta'en  on  trust, 
Or  lured  with  Hope  of  some  Diviner  Drink, 
To  fill  the  Cup  —  when  crumbled  into  Dust! 


21 


0  threats  of  Hell  and  hopes  of  Paradise! 
One  thing  at  least  is  certain,  —  This  Life  flies ; 

One  thing  is  certain  and  the  rest  is  Lies; 
The  Flower  that  once  has  blown  forever  dies. 

Strange,  is  it  not?  that  of  the  myriads  who 
Before  us  pass'd  the  door  of  Darkness  through 

Not  one  returns  to  tell  us  of  the  Road, 
Which  to  discover  we  must  travel  too. 

The  Revelations  of  Devout  and  Learn'd 
Who  rose  before  us,  and  as  Prophets  burn*d, 

Are  all  but  Stories,  which,  awoke  from  Sleep 
They  told  their  fellows,  and  to  Sleep  returned. 

1  sent  my  Soul  through  the  Invisible, 
Some  letter  of  that  After-life  to  spell: 

And  by  and  by  my  Soul  return'd  to  me, 
And  answer'd  "  I  Myself  am  Heav'n  and  Hell." 

Heav*n  but  the  Vision  of  fulfiird  Desire, 
And  Hell  the  Shadow  of  a  Soul  on  fire. 

Cast  on  the  Darkness  into  which  Ourselves, 
So  late  emerg'd  from,  shall  so  soon  expire. 

We  are  no  other  than  a  moving  row 

Of  Magic  Shaaow-shapes  that  come  and  go 

Round  with  this  Sun-illumin'd  Lantern  held 
In  Midnight  by  the  Master  of  the  Show; 

Impotent  Pieces  of  the  Game  He  plays 

Upon  this  Checker-board  of  Nights  and  Days; 

Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  checks,  and  slays, 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  Closet  lays. 


22 


The  Ball  no  question  makes  of  Ayes  and  Noes 
But  Right  or  Left  as  strikes  the  Player  goes; 
And  He  that  toss'd  you  down  into  the  Field, 
He  knows  about  it  all  —  he  knows  —  HE  knows! 

The  Moving  Finger  writes;  and,  having  writ, 
Moves  on :  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  Wit 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it 

And  that  inverted  Bowl  they  call  the  Sky, 
Whereunder  crawling  coop'd  we  live  and  die, 

Lift  not  your  hands  to  It  for  help  —  for  It 
As  impotently  rolls  as  you  or  I. 

With    Earth's   first   Clay   They   did   the   Last   Man 

knead, 
And  there  of  the  Last  Harvest  sow'd  the  Seed: 

And  the  first  Morning  of  Creation  wrote 
What  the  Last  Dawn  of  Reckoning  shall  read. 

Yesterday  This  Day's  Madness  did  prepare; 
To-MORROw's  Silence,  Triumph,  or  Despair: 
Drink!  for  you  know  not  whence  you  came,  nor 
why: 
Drink!  for  you  know  not  why  you  go,  nor  where. 

[Holds  wine-cup  for  Saki  to  reUll,  then  drains  ♦/.] 

I  tell  you  this  — When,  started  from  the  Goal, 
Over  the  flaming  shoulders  of  the  Foal 

Of  Heav'n  Parwin  and  Mushtari  they  flung, 
In  my  predestined  Plot  of  Dust  and  Soul 


23 


The  Vine  had  struck  a  fibre:  which  about 
If  clings  my  Being  —  let  the  Dervish  flout; 

Of  my  Base  metal  may  be  filed  a  Key, 
That  shall  unlock  the  Door  he  howls  without. 

And  this  I  know:  whether  the  one  True  Light 
Kindle  to  Love,  or  Wrath-consume  me  quite, 

One  Flash  of  It  within  the  Tavern  caught 
Better  than  in  the  Temple  lost  outright. 

What!  out  of  senseless  Nothing  to  provoke 
A  conscious  Something  to  resent  the  yoke 

Of  unpermitted  Pleasure,  under  pain 
Of  Everlasting  Penalties,  if  broke! 

What,  from  his  helpless  Creature  be  repaid 
Pure  Gold  for  what  he  lent  us  dross-allay'd  — 

Sue  for  a  Debt  we  never  did  contract. 
And  cannot  answer  —  Oh  the  sorry  trade! 

Oh  Thou,  who  didst  with  pitfall  and  with  gin 
Beset  the  Road  I  was  to  wander  in. 

Thou  wilt  not  with  Predestin'd  Evil  round 
Enmesh,  and  then  impute  my  Fall  to  Sin! 

Oh,  Thou,  who  Man  of  baser  Earth  didst  make 
And  ev*n  with  Paradise  devise  the  Snake: 

For  all  the  Sin  wherewith  the  Face  of  Man 
Is  blackened  —  Man's  Forgiveness  give  —  and  take! 

[The  Maiden  rises  in  horror  at  Omar's  words,  and 
rushes  to  the  Youth,  who  stands  amazed  yet 
fascinated.  He  permits  himself  to  he  drawn  a 
few  steps  away  from  Omar,  while  the  Rabbi 
steps  in  between  Omar  and  them.] 


24 


Rabbi 

[While  he  is  speaking  the  wine-cup,  filled  by  Saki, 
goes  round  among  the  singers.] 

Now,  who  shall  arbitrate? 
Ten  men  love  what  I  hate, 
Shun  what  I  follow,  slight  what  I  receive; 
Ten,  who  in  ears  and  eyes 
Match  me:  we  all  surmise. 

They  this  thing,  and  I  that:  whom  shall  my  soul 
believe? 

Not  on  the  vulgar  mass 
Called  *'  work,"  must  sentence  pass, 
Things  done,  that  took  the  eye  and  had  the  price; 
O'er  which,  from  level  stand. 
The  low  world  laid  its  hand, 

Found   straightway  to  its  mind,   could  value  in   a 
trice : 

But  all,  the  world's  coarse  thumb 
And  finger  failed  to  plumb. 
So  passed  in  making  up  the  main  account; 
All  instincts  immature, 
All  purposes  unsure. 

That  weighed  not  as  his  work,  yet  swelled  the  man's 
amount : 

Thoughts  hardly  to  be  packed 
Into  a  narrow  act. 

Fancies  that  broke  through  language  and  escaped; 
All  I  could  never  be. 
All,  men  ignored  in  me, 

This,  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher 
shaped. 

2$ 


Omar 

[Smiling  cynically  at  the  Rabbi,] 

As  under  cover  of  departing  Day 
Slunk  hunger-stricken  Ramazan  away, 

One  more  within  the  Potter's  house  alone 
I  stood,  surrounded  by  the  Shapes  of  Clay. 

[With  significant  looks  at  the  Rabbi,  the  Youth,  and 
the  Maiden.] 

Shapes  of  all  Sorts  and  Sizes,  great  and  small. 
That  stood  along  the  floor  and  by  the  wall;  , 

And  some  loquacious  Vessels  were;  and  some 
Listened  perhaps,  but  never  talk'd  at  all. 

Said  one  among  them  —  "  Surely  not  in  vain 
My  substance  of  the  common  Earth  was  ta'en 

And  to  this  Figure  moulded,  to  be  broke. 
Or  trampled  back  to  shapeless  Earth  again." 

Then  said  a  Second  — "  Ne'er  a  peevish  Boy 
Would  break  the  Bowl  from  which  he  drank  in  joy : 

And  He  that  with  his  hand  the  Vessel  made 
Will  surely  not  in  after  Wrath  destroy." 

After  a  momentary  silence  spake 
Some  Vessel  of  a  more  ungainly  Make; 

"They  sneer  at  me  for  leaning  all  awry: 
What!  did  the  Hand  then  of  the  Potter  shake?" 

Whereat  some  one  of  the  loquacious  Lot  — 
I  think  a  Sufi  pipkin —   waxing  hot  — 

"  All  this  Pot  and  Potter  —  Tell  me  then. 
Who  makes  —  Who  sells  —  Who  buys  —  Who  is  the 
Pot?" 


"  Why"  said  another,  "  Some  there  are  who  tell 
Of  one  who  threatens  he  will  toss  to  Hell 

The  luckless  Pots  he  marr'd  in  making  —  Pish! 
He's  a  Good  Fellow,  and  't  will  all  be  well." 

**  Well,"  murmur'd  one,  "  Let  whoso  make  or  buy. 
My  Clay  with  long  Oblivion  is  gone  dry : 
But  fill  me  with  the  old  familiar  Juice, 
Methinks  I  might  recover  by  and  by." 

So  while  the  Vessels  one  by  one  were  speaking. 
The  little  Moon  look'd  in  that  all  were  seeking: 
And    then    they    jogg'd    each    other,    "Brother! 
Brother ! 
Now  for  the  Porter's  shoulder-knot  a-creaking ! " 

Rabbi 

Ay,  note  that  Potter's  wheel. 
That  metaphor!  and  feel 

Why  time  spins  fast,  why  passive  lies  our  clay,' — 
Thou,  to  whom  fools  propound 
When  the  wine  makes  its  round, 
"  Since  life  fleets,  all  is  change ;  the  Past  gone,  seize 
to-day !" 

Fool !    All  that  is,  at  all, 
Lasts  ever,  past  recall; 

Earth  changes,  but  thy  soul  and  God  stand  sure: 
What  entered  into  thee, 
That  was,  is,  and  shall  be: 

Time's  wheel  runs  back  or  stops:  Potter  and  clay 
endure. 

He  fixed  thee  mid  this  dance 

Of  plastic  circumstance, 

This  Present,  thou,  forsooth,  wouldst  fain  arrest: 

a; 


Machinery  just  meant 

To  give  thy  soul  its  bent, 

Try  thee  and  turn  thee  forth,  sufficiently  impressed. 

What  though  the  earlier  grooves 

Which  ran  the  laughing  loves 

Around  thy  base,  no  longer  pause  and  press? 

What  though,  about  thy  rim. 

Skull-things  in  order  grim 

Grow  out,  in  graver  mood,  obey  the  sterner  stress? 

Omar 

Ah,  with  the  Grape  my  fading  Life  provide, 
And  wash  the  Body  whence  the  Life  has  died. 

And  lay  me,  shrouded  in  the  living  Leaf, 
By  some  not  unfrequented  Garden-side. 

That  ev'n  my  buried  Ashes  such  a  snare 
Of  Vintage  shall  fling  up  into,  the  Air 

As  not  a  True-believer  passing  by 
But  shall  be  overtaken  unaware. 

Indeed  the  Idols  I  have  loved  so  long 

Have  done  my  credit  in  Men's  eyes  much  wrong: 

Have  drown'd  my  Glory  in  a  shallow  Cup, 
And  sold  my  Reputation  for  a  Song. 

Indeed,  indeed,  Repentance  oft  before 

I  swore  —  but  was  I  sober  when  I  swore? 

And  then  and  then  came  Spring,  and  Rose-in-hand 
My  thread-bare  Penitence  apieces  tore. 

And  much  as  Wine  has  played  the  Infidel, 
And  robb'd  me  of  my  Robe  of  Honour  —  Well, 

I  wonder  often  what  the  Vintners  buy 
One  half  so  precious  as  the  stuff  they  sell. 

98 


Yet  Ah,  that  Spring  should  vanish  with  the  Rose! 
That  Youth's  sweet-scented  manuscript  should  close! 

The  Nightingale  that  in  the  branches  sang, 
Ah  whence,  and  whither  flov  n  again,  who  knows ! 

Would  but  the  Desert  of  the  Fountain  yield 
One  glimpse  —  if  dimly,  yet  indeed,  reveal'd. 

To  which  the  fainting  TravelLr  might  spring, 
As  springs  the  trampled  herbage  of  the  field ! 

Would  but  some  winged  Angel  ere  too  late 
Arrest  the  yet  unfolded  Roll  of  Fate, 

And  make  the  stern  Recorder  otherwise 
Enregister,  or  quite  obliterate! 

[Turning  to  Saki.] 

Ah  Love!  could  you  and  I  with  Him  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  Scheme  of  Things  entire. 
Would  not  we  shatter  it  to  bits  —  and  then 
Re-mould  it  nearer  to  the  Heart's  Desire! 

[The  Youth  turns  from  Omar  in  revulsion,  then 
looks  lovingly  toward  the  Maiden,  while  he 
drinks  from  the  water-cup  and  hands  it  to  her. 
She  takes  it  from  him  joyfully  and  drinks  what 
remains,  raising  her  eyes  in  thanks  to  Heaven. 
When  she  has  emptied  the  cup  she  places  it 
inverted  upon  the  well.  All  watch  her  with 
interest.  The  light  declines  and  becomes  sil- 
very.   Omar  continues,  sadly.] 

Yon  rising  Moon  that  looks  for  us  again  — 
How  oft  hereafter  will  she  wax  and  wane; 

How  oft  hereafter  rising  look  for  us 
Through  this  same  Garden  —  and  for  one  in  vain! 

29 


And  when  like  her,  oh  Saki,  you  shall  pass 
Among  the  Guests  Star-scatter'd  on  the  Grass, 

And  in  your  blissful  errand  reach  the  spot 
Where  I  made  One  —  turn  down  an  empty  Glass! 

Rabbi 

[To  the  Youth,  lovingly.] 

Look  not  thou  down  but  up ! 
To  uses  of  a  cup. 

The  festal  board,  lamp's  flash  and  trumpet's  peal, 
The  new  wine's  foaming  flow, 
\  The  Master's  lips  a-glow ! 

Thou,  heaven's  consummate  cup,  what  need'st  thou 
with  earth's  wheel? 

[In  prayer.] 

But  I  need,  now  as  then. 

Thee,  God,  who  mouldest  men; 

And  since,  not  even  while  the  whirl  was  worst, 

Did  I — to  the  wheel  of  life 

With  shapes  and  colors  rife. 

Bound  dizzily  —  mistake  my  end,  to  slake  Thy  thirst : 

So,  take  and  use  Thy  work: 
Amend  what  flaws  may  lurk, 

What  strain  o'  the  stuff,  what  warpings  past  the  aim  I 
My  times  be  in  Thy  hand ! 
Perfect  the  cup  as  planned! 

Let  age  approve  of  youth,  and  death  complete  the 
same ! 

[Omar  and  his  followers  retire  to  the  tent  with 
forced  merriment.  The  Rabbi,  followed  by  the 
Youth  and  the  Maiden  hand  in  hand,  walk 
toward  the  city,] 


^i^n 


-v^»^^. 


